


Swift Wind directs...CATS

by Gondolinpod (Gondolin), Ritterssport, Sunquistadora



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, F/F, Gen, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Teen rating just because we let Lonnie say fuck, background Catra/Adora, musical theatre, she deserves it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gondolin/pseuds/Gondolinpod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ritterssport/pseuds/Ritterssport, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunquistadora/pseuds/Sunquistadora
Summary: Swift Wind gets ahold of an ancient cultural text from Melog's home planet. He adapts it...into a musical? No one can escape.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 13
Collections: Pod_Together 2020





	Swift Wind directs...CATS

  
[Stream here or right click to download](http://www.gondolin.kalindalittle.com/podfics/Swift%20Wind%20directs%20CATS.mp3)

* * *

Adora slammed the book onto Lance’s drafting table. A small cyclone of papers took form. “This is all your fault.”

Lance’s eyes shifted left, then right. “So...he liked it, huh?”

“Swift Wind did not _like_ it,” Adora said darkly.

Catra, smirking, lounged her way into a full-blown sprawl onto the table next to the book. “How should we put it?” She examined her claws. “Loved, perhaps. Adored. Buried himself in. Became _obsessed_ with.”

“You try documenting an excavation site with a very curious flying horse sticking his nose—literally!—over your shoulder,” Lance muttered. “I just wanted to give him something else to focus on so he wouldn’t trample my pot shards.”

“You have to tell me everything you know.” Adora slapped both palms down on the desk. “I’m going to need every bit of information you have to fight this.”

Lance sighed, and gave up completely on re-stacking his papers. “I don’t know much, Adora, I confess. We were excavating a site on Melog’s home planet Krytis where we had detected strong magical residue, it was during Swift Wind’s archaeology phase, and he had...a lot of questions. So, when we found this book, of what looked like Krytian poetry, we told him to transcribe it.”

“What for?”

Lance looked shocked. “The book itself is a millennia-old artifact! The original is in a temperature-controlled magical protection sphere.” Lance rubbed the back of his neck, chagrined. “I didn’t even notice that he stopped asking us questions about artifact preservation and dating after that.”

“Congratulations, you knocked him completely out of his archaeology phase and into a whole new one.”

“ _Musicals_ ,” Catra pronounced with relish.

“Wait, there’s music?”

“There is now.” Grimly, Adora hefted the book back into her arms. “We gotta go. If I don’t sneak this book back into Swift Wind’s stable before he looks for it, he’ll flip out.”

They left Lance fretting and muttering about literary analysis and stepped out of Bow’s old house into the fluttering shadows of the Whispering Wood.

“Honestly, were you expecting them to help us? You know George and Lance are only good for unconditional love and support.” Catra gave a mock shudder and equally exaggerated retching sound.

“You seem awfully easy-going about this whole thing,” Adora accused.

Catra stretched, ostentatiously casual, and danced ahead a little, spinning round to grin into Adora’s face. “It’s pretty funny, watching you hide from your own magic horse.”

Adora made a grab for her wrist, and Catra skipped back—but not quite fast enough to dodge the other girl’s foot hooking around her ankle. Catra spluttered, started to fall, and reached out and grabbed.

Claws went into jacket lapels. Both girls went down in a laughing heap.

They might have kept tussling, or one of them might have shifted the wrestling into the still-exciting territory that came with a kiss, but Adora still had a mission to make Catra understand.

“I don’t think you realize,” Adora jabbed a finger into Catra’s face, “there is _no_ way you’re getting away with not being part of this. I heard Swift Wind talking about _dancing_.”

She watched Catra’s tail lash, and flopped back to the ground in a puff of dust and Pyrrhic satisfaction.

*****

  
“I’ve called this meeting,” announced Adora, “to discuss Swift Wind’s latest...project.”

After winning the peace, the palace of Bright Moon had become both emptier and more bustling—the gates stood open and the people of the neighboring villages came and went, but the previously ever-present rebel military forces and guards had reduced to a quarter, and, unlike the receiving chamber and royal gardens, the command room had stood empty.

It was weird invigorating, being back at the strategy table—without the threat of a looming Horde attack. Or the end of the world. Adora put her hands behind her back and paced up and down. “Now, I know—because he has told me, pointedly—that Swift Wind does not have the volunteers he wants. What was everyone’s excuse?”

Embarrassed silence smothered the princesses. Adora watched them glancing at each other, and demanded, “Out with it!”

The list was varied. Once-in-a-lifetime corpse flower blooming (Perfuma), dads’ anniversary (Bow), fixing the ocean drains (Mermista), a conflict with her weekly volunteer work mentoring local students, (Spinnerella), and nets (Netossa. Naturally).

“You just said...nets?”

Netossa stared back, stone-faced. “Nets are very versatile.”

Adora coughed and conceded the staring contest. “What about you, Glimmer?”

Glimmer, unlike Netossa, had the future-queenly grace to look embarrassed. "I said dancing activates my latent childhood trauma."

Mermista whistled. “Nice. I’m stealing that one.”

Frosta piped up. “The Frost Giants’ annual trek through my princessdom is set to pass over a key Eastern Ice Dwarf hunting ground, and the third of five planned summits to mediate between them is coming up.”

“That’s even better.”

“It has the advantage of being true.” Frosta drew herself up, glowering from beneath impressive eyebrows. “I’ll thank you not to dismiss my citizens’ concerns _or_ my responsibilities.”

“Cool your jets, kid, you’re making the rest of us look bad.” Mermista reached down and gave Frosta a comradely squeeze on the shoulder, sounding almost impressed.

“I told Swift Wind I would simply _adore_ being part of his theatrical endeavours! And, in fact, should he require an expert shanty-man’s assistance, he shouldn’t hesitate to call on me for anything!”

“We know.”

Adora cleared her throat, punching her fist into the opposite palm. The princesses (and Sea Hawk—oh, and Bow? She could never remember to think of him as _not_ a princess) turned back to her. “However, there is one important factor none of us considered.” She pointed to the back of the command hall, and every head swiveled to find…

...Wrong Hordak, hunched in a corner in an attitude of abject disappointment, with a garnish of hurt puzzlement.

“I was hoping to practice my emotional range.” He sniffed. “I suppose it’ll have to be a one-clone show.”

“One clone and one _piratical leading man_!”

“ _NO_ ,” erupted at least four voices at once.

In the ensuing chaos, Perfuma clambered up onto her chair. “I for one feel bad for trying to get out of this,” she announced. “I hope we’ve all learned a valuable lesson about empathy.”

“It could be fun!” contributed Scorpia, brightly. “Like a teambuilding exercise!”

Catra, as if trying to balance their enthusiasm out, sank even deeper into her own chair. “We could not possibly be more of a team than we are now.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“No!”

“So.” Spinnerella coughed into her fist and glanced around warily. “What exactly is this, uh, what did you call it, ‘musical’ that we’re all agreeing to participate in?”

Catra pulled herself out from under the table, and made a noise that was two parts yowl, one part hiss, and three parts melodious hum.

“If you wouldn’t mind translating for those of us not fluent in Krytian?”

Catra buffed her claws, drawing the moment out. “Welllll, it’s a little complicated. There’s a bit in there implying a possessive, and the word has connotations of everyday-ness or practicality, but the simplest translation would just be... _Cats_.”

  
*****  
  
  


Standing against the wall at the back of Swift Wind’s very crowded stable, Lonnie leaned over to Catra. “Oh man, compared to these princesses, you're a shoe-in.”

She was still trying to figure out how to be friends with Catra. It was hard enough with the princesses, but at least they felt as weird as she did about it. She had _thought_ that keeping their at-least-I'm-not-a-princess camaraderie at the fore would help, but based on Catra’s tail thumping against the stable wall, that…did not seem to be working.

"...oh?" _Thump._

"Yeah… because… you're…"

"I'm?" _Thump._

"You know.. "

_Thump thump._

"GOOD AT MAKING A SPECTACLE????" Catra hissed, tail puffing.

Lonnie threw her hands up. "A cat?"

Swift Wind cut off any response Catra might have had by spinning around and shouting "NO INTERRUPTING THE AUDITIONS!"

The parade of princesses continued under Swift Wind’s dictatorial direction. They'd been here for a few hours already, and had already been asked to sing a song of their choosing—Lonnie had sung the same song as Kyle and Rogelio, the marching song that Kyle had come up with for their squad. She had stopped before some of the less flattering verses about princesses, but she could have _sworn_ that she saw Adora still singing along, mouthing the words under her breath when she stopped. 

After the current batch up at the front of the stable stopped hopping their way through a very strange dance that Swift Wind had taught them earlier in the day, Swift Wind dismissed them. 

" _Oh thank fuck_ ," Lonnie turned towards Rogelio and whispered. Rogelio let out a tiny growl of agreement. " _One more round and we're outta here._ " She scooted in closer to her old squad to let the leaving folks by.

"Oh hey! Hordak!" Lonnie was _clearly_ still too close to the barn door though—Entrapta's greeting was downright ear-piercing. She wasn't sure what was worse—the ringing in her ears or the thought of seeing her ex-boss-slash-evil-overlord do a little dance. 

Sure enough, Hordak's head poked through the door. If Lonnie craned her head enough, she was pretty sure she could see Entrapta's hand on his back, pushing him into the room. 

"What's going on in here?"

Swift Wind spun around, stamped his hooves, and did a frankly terrifying horse snort. "THIS IS A CLOSED AUDITION!!!"

Hordak jumped, like actually _jumped_ , and scrambled out the door.

 _Well. At least_ something _entertaining happened today._

  
*****  
  
  


“See? I _told_ everyone that I wouldn't be a cat!” Catra pulled Adora away from the small crowd gathered around the cast list that Swift Wind had posted outside his barn, and the clearly hoof-decorated crate piled high with scripts below it.

Hordak, standing a little outside the crowd—probably there to support Entrapta in his weird way—butted in. “Why would people assume you would be a cat?"

Adora froze. Catra swished her tail once and blinked.

“...ok, I forgive you for like twenty percent of my childhood trauma for that.”

“...I, uh, I forgive you for twenty percent of your violations of my orders.”

Adora looked over to Catra apprehensively. But she just chuckled and actually seemed to...ease up a little? _He's a little confused, but he's got the spirit._

A triumphant roar split the evening air, and both of them spun around to find it had come from Rogelio.

Kyle clasped both of his clawed hands in his. “A railway! It’ll be just like that time we hijacked a supply train back in the Fright Zone! Although probably with fewer injuries. Probably.” Rogelio hissed a congratulation back at him, and got a big smile in return. “Aww thanks, bud. I’m excited to sing about how cool you are.” The smile turned into a bright blush.

Catra was studying them, and the rest of the crowd. Her eyebrows pinched together—just a bit. Adora studied her in turn, trying to pin down exactly what it meant. Hurt that she was left out? Disdain for the others’ excitement? Frustration at the relief she felt getting out of this, since maybe she felt like she ought to want to participate? Just a general scowl at Kyle?

Adora might have asked, but—“Catra! There you are!” Swift Wind checked his gallop at the last moment, coming to a halt in front of them with clods of earth flying.

Catra snapped out of her mood, and groaned. “What do you want? I’m not on your dumb list. You—”

“Of course you’re not! You’re my assistant director.”

Catra froze. “Wait. Really?”

“You’re the only one I can trust to help whip these layabouts into all-singing, all-dancing cat-worthy shape. And on that note...I also have you down as dramaturge.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure. But mainly I want you to critique my cat choreography for perfect accuracy.” Swift Wind tossed his mane and gazed keenly off into the distance. “It has to be... _realistic_.”

“Um.” Catra’s eyes shifted side-to-side, searching in vain for an escape route. None appeared. Swift Wind’s neck extended further toward her. “All right, all right! I’ll do it.”

Swift Wind reared triumphantly, rainbow wings churning the air. “Yes! Catra, you and I will lead these thespians to victory!”

As if he felt there could be nothing further to say, Swift Wind leapt into the sky for a victory lap around the barn.

Catra groaned.

“I don’t know how comfortable I feel about this...musical thing, either,” Adora confessed. “But if we all look like idiots, at least we’ll all look like idiots together, right? She gave Catra an elbow nudge, and, just like every time, mentally chalked up one more entry in the _making up for lost Catra time_ ledger. “You and me. And everyone!”

The two of them gazed back over at the mob. The chaos had not died down. Sea Hawk had pulled Mermista into a spinning dance, announcing rapturously that they had a _duet_.

Huntara flicked through the script as they orbited around her, clearly secure in the knowledge that no matter how over-excited he was, Sea Hawk wouldn’t dare bump into her.

“So this Jennyanydots takes a gaggle of layabout mice and forges them into a well-oiled machine under her command. Hmmmm.” She rubbed her chin with an imposing hand, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, I can play this.”

Behind her, Wrong Hordak asked, “What exactly is ‘conjuring’?” with his head cocked to what Adora had to admit was an adorably puzzled angle.

“It means magic,” Micah informed him, and went back to staring, with a crushed expression, at his hands. “I don’t feel much of a spiritual kinship with this ‘Gus the Theater Cat’. Do you think Swift Wind cast me because he thinks I’m old?”

“Honey, look at the rest of the cast.” Spinnerella patted his shoulder. “Some of them are your literal children.” 

When this failed to cheer him up, Netossa slapped him on the back—much less considerately. “Hey, at least Swift Wind didn’t cast you as ‘Old Deuteronomy.’ That means he thinks you’re younger than Madame Razz!”

“Madame Razz?” Catra blinked. “Did she even audition?”

“Well, dearie, I auditioned for _something_.”

Adora and Catra yelped in perfect unison. Madame Razz hummed happily at them and began elbowing her way through the crowd toward the pile of scripts, even though she appeared to—somehow?—already have one tucked under her arm.

Catra sighed and shook her head, and her tiny, genuine smile made an appearance for the first time that day.

“You and me and everyone,” Catra agreed.

  
*****  
  
  


“Where’s the emotion? I need passion! Agony! Yearning for bygone days!”

Scorpia dropped her claws mid-note, drooping. “Oh, geez. Maybe I’m not the right gal for the part after all, Swiftie.”

Catra loved watching a good dressing-down as much as anyone. (Well. Probably more than most people.) But this was maybe too far. And she wasn’t the only one who thought so. In the chorus, one of Perfuma’s fists had started clenching erratically.

Hastily, Catra swung down from her perch in the rickety single-platform treehouse (the tree courtesy of Perfuma) where Bow had started rigging up lights. “Hey, uh, Swift Wind, you wanna get a little more _Slow Breeze_ over here—”

“I will never be slow OR a breeze! And neither should this song!”

Perfuma now had both fists clenched. Then something boiled over in the beanpole princess. She marched downstage. “Excuse me!”

Swift Wind’s beady eyes narrowed. “Do you have critiques of my directing, _Rum Tum Tugger_?”

The rest of the cast murmured and shifted. Scorpia hopped from foot to foot, looking deeply distressed. Belatedly, Catra remembered she was supposed to be assistant-directing this whole business. “Uh, let’s all…take five?” It came out as a question. _Ugh_ , Catra thought at herself. “Take five!” she bellowed.

It cut through Perfuma’s strident objections to “art-inhibiting aggression”, and Swift Wind’s (getting to be familiar) tirade about “suffering for one's art.” And somewhat to her surprise, it worked. Swift Wind ruffled his wings and trotted off, his high-kicking hooves somehow conveying prissiness, and the rest of the cast scattered. Scorpia sat down heavily, and put her arms around her knees, resting her chin there. She sighed.

And then Perfuma was there, slipping down easily to sit facing Scorpia.

Catra decided to give them some space, and check on the rest of the crew. The stage was coming together well already, even if the audience section was still just a pathetic row of folding chairs. Bow and Entrapta had been building it in a large open meadow, with help from everyone not actively rehearsing at any given moment. And Entrapta’s omnipresent army of robots.

She wandered over towards a glowing light round the back of the stage that she correctly assumed was Entrapta with a blow torch. Not wanting to get scorched, she tapped an idling pigtail.

“Oh hey!” Entrapta switched her torch off and pulled her mask up. “What's up?” She didn't pause for an answer. “I was just building a big harness for my robots to wear to make a ‘railway train’ for Rogelio! They’re gonna be ADORABLE!”

“Oh, uh, cool. Yeah, I bet that’ll look great.”

“Of course it will!” Entrapta broke her robot reverie for a moment. “Did you need something though?”

“Me? No. I was just seeing, uh, if you needed anything. "

"Oh! Wow! That's a new data point for me!"

"Okay, okay, sorry I asked! Sheesh!"

Entrapta grinned and flicked one of Catra’s ears with a pigtail, which Catra promptly batted away. "I'm all set! Emily's got me covered. But thank you for asking, friend!"

"Yeah, yeah, see you after rehearsal." Catra retreated.

She meandered back towards the stage. Scorpia had unfolded, mostly, into something that looked a little less like a protective ball. Perfuma had taken both of Scorpia’s hands (well...claws) in hers, and was leaning earnestly towards her. Probably talking about feelings being flowers that you had to water or something.

Catra, unfortunately, remembered every word of her own personal feelings-flowers Perfuma pep talk.

“Let’s get back to it!”

Scorpia vaulted back upright, and shuffled leftwards, sneaking a glance down at her feet until she hit her mark. Her shoulders started to come back up, but settled back into relaxation when Perfuma gave a huge, encouraging, dorky grin, and an even dorkier wave.

Scorpia smiled back in very un-Grizabella fashion and took a huge breath, chest expanding.

Scorpia could really sing. How about that.

It kind of made Catra want to die. Because she remembered Scorpia, moving through life in the Fright Zone on metaphorical (and sometimes literal) tip-toes, but still trying hug after hug after overture of friendship. She remembered, in vivid, cringing detail, every one of Scorpia’s crestfallen expressions, and she remembered that she, Catra, had put them there.

This was the _worst_. Catra stared hard at the backup cat dancers and tried to think about their performances instead. This became easier to do once Adora got on stage, because Adora, it turned out, was even worse at this style of dancing than Kyle. She had memorized all the choreography flawlessly after about two practice sessions, but went through the motions with a scowl of absolute determination and with a mechanical jerkiness that was significantly less graceful than, for instance, Entrapta’s robots.

It _was_ pretty cute, though.

When Swift Wind finally yelled that they were done with running scenes for the day, Catra steeled herself, waited til Scorpia had relaxed a little bit, and marched up to her with a lashing tail of single-minded determination.

“Oh, hey, Catra! Thanks for calling a break today!”

“Hey, Scorpia.” Catra coughed. “You, uh, you did really well in rehearsal today. You sing really well. And you’re even good at—” she sniffed. “I mean, you’ve still got a lot of work on the cat choreography, but—”

Scorpia’s eyes were shining. Catra steeled herself for the inevitable.

The inevitable was, in this case, the effort it took to scowl and pretend it didn’t feel... _nice_...when Scorpia lunged and enfolded her in one of her sturdy, all-encompassing hugs.

“Augh,” said Catra. “It’s not like I’ve never complimented you before.”

“I know! But it’s always special, kitty cat.”

Scorpia hummed happily and rested her chin just up against the top of Catra’s head—mercifully, not on it. Catra’s treacherous hands released their tight fists at her sides, and she put her arms around Scorpia in return.

Scorpia didn’t say anything. She just shifted, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, so that her arms weren’t pinioning Catra’s shoulders anymore, and Catra discovered that instead of her _being hugged_ , they were _hugging each other_.

Scorpia’s skin was pleasantly cool against Catra’s. Catra let herself think of nothing—no screaming voice in her head of _you’re showing weakness_ , no _get out before they know how much this means to you_ , not even _you don’t deserve this_. Just a hug.

It was nice. She settled in for a minute.

Her tail twitched. “Okay, done now!”

Scorpia didn’t even blink, just popped her arms opened and Catra leapt free. “Oh, would you look at that! Time for me to get to dance practice,” Scorpia chortled, and practically skipped off.

Catra shook herself all over, resettling herself into her skin. Time to make everyone dance like cats.

*****  
  
  


“All right, let’s take it from Old Deut—” Swift Wind broke off, megaphone dangling, scanning the newly-completed stage and the tangle of risers that was slowly becoming respectable seating. “Where’s Madame Razz?”

Heads turned, but there was no answering cackle nor poof of wild hair. Catra consulted her notes. _Madame Razz missing_ had five tally marks. She marked down a sixth, which made it tied with _Sea Hawk reverts to sea shanty time signature_ , and ahead of _Wrong Hordak bursts into “happy tears”_ and _Frosta has to leave because of a diplomatic crisis_ by two.

Catra swung her feet up onto Bow’s elaborate lightboard, ignoring his horrified gasp. Tracking down Madame Razz usually bought her enough time for a catnap, and Bow’s treehouse now had the perfect walls to hide said nap from certain directors who don't understand the creative value of _resting._

This time, though, the moment she closed her eyes, she heard a tell-tale old lady cackle. Lonnie emerged triumphantly from the bushes at the edge of the meadow, chivvying Madame Razz ahead of her.

“Come on, come on, you know we need you on that stage.”

The old lady bobbed her head. “Give ‘em the old razzle-dazzle.”

“But have you considered,” Lonnie returned, seriously, “dazzle razzle?”

Madame Razz gasped, then cackled like this was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “Upsetting the natural order of things? I like the way you think!”

Lonnie took in Adora’s open-mouthed stare, and shrugged. “What? She’s weird. I like it.”

Adora jabbed a finger at Lonnie's chest. “A- _ha_ ! This is _your_ special job now.”

“Hey, you’re not the boss of me, Adora!”

“No, but I am.” Grinning, Catra popped halfway out of the treehouse window, head propped on her folded arms, looking smug as the cat who got the actor-management reassigned. “Lonnie, you’re hereby promoted to official Wood Witch Wrangler.”

Lonnie scoffed. “You know we’re not in the army any more, right?” But both corners of her mouth twitched.

The rehearsal went smoothly. ...For about another half hour. 

“Victoria!”

Adora snapped to attention. “Yes sir director! Am I not projecting enough? I can do better!”

“You are in the CHORUS! The chorUS, not the chorYOU SINGING OVER EVERYONE.” Swift Wind was _possibly_ taking too much advantage of the fact that he could finally boss Adora around for a change, but, well, he wasn’t wrong.

Catra debated whether she should be a heroic girlfriend and provide a distraction to save Adora. But really, if she thought about it, wasn’t it _more_ heroic to help Adora overcome her hero complex? It definitely was. She was doing great at being good now.

The demands of rehearsal, however, did not give her time to gloat.

Wrong Hordak tugged plaintively at her sleeve. “Catra, Catra, I need your help!”

Wrong Hordak made a face at her.

“Does this convey hope, tender ambition, the fear that I’ll never be good enough, and existential dread at the unique position my own magic puts me in vis-a-vis my fellow mammals?”

Catra blinked several times. “Um. Use your eyebrows a little more. But otherwise...yes, actually?”

“Hooray!”

  
  
*****  
  


Surely it wasn't possible that it had already been two months since this started, Catra thought. _Surely_ it wasn't tech week already. She'd been in active combat situations that had less messed-up time flow than this! And yet. Here she was. Needing to practice...speaking in front of an audience. This would be fine. Everybody _else_ was doing just fine. Well…for a given definition of fine. 

On second thought, looking over at Mermista and Sea Hawk, they were _definitely_ not fine.

George had finally finished the costumes and brought them for everyone to try on. "You…look...like… you got...tarred and feathered… and then… you set the feathers on fire…. And then… you jumped into the ocean to put them out!" Mermista managed to choke out between howls of laughter, bent double.

Sea Hawk, who had been swinging his string _accessory_ —Catra would not dignify that thing by calling it a tail—in a circle and strutting, stopped and brandished it at Mermista. It appeared to be made of at least twenty different-colored scraps of fabric. "Well YOU! _You_ look like…like you're the chicken whose feathers got plucked off to feather me!"

"Oh yeah?" Mermista stood up straight, panting.

"Nnno? No! You look like a goddess, as usual, my…" he sputtered out. "YES! YES YOU DO I WON'T TAKE IT BACK!" He started cackling and sprinted away. Mermista was laughing too hard to follow him. 

_I wonder if Adora and I look like that to other people_ , Catra thought before an excited squeal cut off her train of thought. She turned to watch Perfuma run over to Scorpia, who had just emerged from the tent they were using as the dressing room. 

_Ok, never mind. I don't_ care _as long as we're not as nauseatingly sappy as those two._

"Look at your EARS! Oh my gosh! They're so cute!"

"What about the little fur cuffs around your claws?"

"Hahaha, I just wanna give you a little scritch! I'm gonna rub your tummy just like Melog."

 _Ok! Moving on!_ thought Catra, all but running from the space. She almost collided with Rogelio, who was rotating in slow circles, trying to get a good look at the three legwarmers going up his tail.

Fortunately, there were plenty of other things to keep her occupied. 

Like… the fact that she was going to have to make an announcement at the start of the show when it opened.

_Or! Or literally anything else!_

Too late. Swift Wind jumped up onto his raised director’s platform with an excited clatter, and was shouting through the bullhorn he had hung around his neck. (It really would be hilarious to watch him prop it up with one of his hooves, if she wasn't too distracted by wanting to give whoever gave him the idea a good smacking.)

"ALL RIGHT EVERYONE, PLACES!" 

She started heading to the row of chairs where she normally sat and took notes, but Swift Wind _neighed_ in her direction. 

"CATRA, YOU'RE UP!"

"Ok, ok, sheesh!" She made her way up to the stage. "I just have to introduce the show and tell everyone to be quiet, right?" She didn't think she sounded nervous, but she must have. Scorpia waved for her attention from the side of the stage until she looked over, then gave two claws up with a big grin. _You can do it, Catra_ , she mouthed.

 _Dork_ , Catra thought. But she gave a little thumbs up back, and, well, she did feel better. 

"Ladies, gentlemen, distinguished guests, shapeshifters, interstellar sentient programs, and the rest of you! Welcome to Bright Moon's very own premiere of _Cats_ , written and directed by Swift Wind, based on a text from Krytis. I know you're all going to enjoy the show, and it's very exciting, but please keep from talking, or eating and drinking, while people are performing. It distracts the actors and keeps everyone around you from enjoying our production. Now, please sit back and enjoy the show!" _That wasn't so bad_ , she thought, as she dashed back towards her perch.

The wobbly ladder had been replace by a full-blown lights-and-sound booth, nestled snugly in a sturdy tree. Bow offered up a big smile and a fistbump.

By three-quarters of the way through Act One, everything had gone off without a hitch. Catra scanned what she could see of the wings. _Aha_. Madame Razz was in fact ready for her entrance—and on the correct side of the stage, even. Lonnie had somehow succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. She was sitting next to her in the wings, holding the ball of yarn for Madame Razz’s knitting.

Barely ten seconds past her cue (apparently it was really important to fold up said knitting properly), Madame Razz emerged from stage left. She bounded downstage, the rest of the cast parting around her, and stopped, teetering on the very edge. She opened her mouth.

_"I DREAMED A DREAM IN TIME GONE BYYYYYYY—"_

Catra buried her face in her hands and groaned. This rehearsal was definitely going over schedule. Again.

  
  
*****

Catra’s feet felt leaden as she dragged herself towards the lip of the stage, with every footfall echoing to match.

A sea of faces as sinister as Horde Prime’s gazed up at her. The house lights caught their eyes. Assessing, demanding... _judging_.

She blinked. Nope, that one off to the side was Adora. Adora was gesticulating, one half attention-grabbing waving and one half tactical communication. Catra narrowed her eyes. If she was remembering their old codes correctly... _you step-back_ plus _sneak round_ plus _me cut-curtain-rope_ plus _we can make a break for it!_

“You idiot,” Catra muttered, a smile fighting its way onto her frozen face—and that unlocked her brain, just enough for her to take a deep breath and bellow out into the audience, “EVERYBODY SHUT UP! WE’RE STARTING!”

One blurred sprint later, Catra was back up in Bow’s booth. It had grown even more tricked-out since the dress rehearsal, with arrays of cables like vines wrapping around every tree branch. From her perch on the treehouse railing, she glared at the curtain, then at the latest blank sheet in her notes. All the mishap tallies were back to zero. The empty page and curtained stage danced with promise. “Come on, everyone,” she muttered. “You can do it.”

Bow—a bundle of nerves just five minutes ago—had entered a zone of perfect calm. His fingers waited, poised above his elaborate control board.

Catra swallowed. “Hit it,” she whispered.

A rainbow of lights dazzled out over the audience and stage. The music swelled. Lonnie hauled on the curtain rope.

Robots covered in junk parts crawled onto the stage, each bearing a "cat" in repose. Catra heard soft gasps from the audience, and swelled with smugness. They settled into place, an oddly-proportioned, ramshackle alley taking form, and one by one, the cats uncurled and rose up to dance.

*****

Bow was just so proud of his friends. _So proud!_ He was pretty proud of himself too, come to that, but _his friends_! They’d all put on a show! And it had been _wonderful_! No, no—never mind the mechanism for the Heaviside Layer going up in flames during a rehearsal, and _forget_ the weird sexual tension vibes Mungojerry and Rumpleteaser had with Victoria, and just never ever even mentioning Swift Wind’s bullhorn ever again—it had been _perfect_. Yeah.

And, after all, if the Heaviside Layer Mover Number One hadn’t met its fiery doom, he and Entrapta would never have thought of reprogramming Darla to lift Scorpia out of the auditorium.

“Everything happens for a reason,” Bow realized.

“What?” Catra bawled in his face.

“You’re my friends and you all did such a good job!”

Catra sat bolt upright, wagging her finger. “No! We all did such a _great_ job.” She started to sit upright, encountered the full weight of all three of her friends, and flopped backwards. “You all sang so well and you danced and you didn’t forget _any_ lines, except for that one bit in Act Two, but it didn’t even matter and you covered it _really_ well, and all the explosions even happened right on cue!” She punched Bow in the shoulder.

“That was a team effort,” he said, modestly. “Entrapta and I worked really hard on the timers.”

“It was _all_ a team effort.” Catra...sounded happy? About teamwork? This was maybe the best day of Bow’s life.

“And you!” Catra’s finger rounded on Glimmer. “When you tossed that handful of glitter in Wrong Hordak’s face and _hissed_! I thought he was going to scream.”

“It’s true.” Bow leaned over, fingers wiggling, til he could pet Glimmer’s hair, marveling at its sparkliness. Sparkle-ness? “You were terrifying! I’m so proud of you.”

Glimmer pulled her face into a truly alarming, teeth-baring, wide-eyed, scowl, and Bow squeaked a little.

“No...no more crimes,” he whispered solemnly, putting his finger to her lips.

“Only good now,” agreed Adora.

The sounds of the party encircled Bow, merging with twinkling lights, forming a perfect atmosphere as he sprawled on a couch in the palace gardens with the rest of the Best Friends Squad. He tried his best to take it all in. 

Entrapta, with a stylus in each hand and one in her hair, was scribbling maniacally and expositing to Hordak as she went on her Grand Unified Theory of Cats. “It’s all about the ionization! The radio waves—”

Rogelio was mid-reenactment of his trickiest Skimbleshanks dance choreography, but with Kyle balanced on his shoulders,whooping in glee. Lonnie somehow managed to egg them on while in the middle of an arm wrestling match with Huntara. Mermista was refereeing the match, eyes narrowed in complete concentration.

On the floor, Sea Hawk rubbed his arm. Bow felt his own twinge in sympathy, and winced.

Wrong Hordak, from what he could tell, had been lying flat on top of a table for the last two hours, with a huge smile, just generally basking in his success. 

Also high fiving everyone that walked by. _Who would be so heartless as to leave Wrong Hordak hanging? No one, that's who,_ thought Bow. _We're all proud of you, buddy!_

Adora’s voice broke him out of his reverie.

“Where’s King Micah, and Netossa and Spinerella, and the Misters Bow?” Adora sounded genuinely alarmed at the thought of them not also having a great time.

“I told you not to call them that! It’s weird!”

“Oh, did you miss what happened?” Catra shot a sly look at her.

“Should we apologize to Micah?” Bow tried to rub his chin, but couldn’t reach it around Adora’s shoulders.

"No." Catra laughed, gently swatting Glimmer’s face. Then, at Glimmer’s expression, added, "Hey, don't look at me like that! I'm not being…" she waved her hand, "whatever. He's fine! I heard Netossa gathering him up to join the rest of the adults in the lake. Good thing though—you were pretty mean there, Sparkles! Saying he couldn't party with the Queen!”

"You're bullying me! That's not very light-side-redemption-Catra of you!"

"Oh, you think I'm bullying you? I didn't even mention that I heard them asking Castaspella to put an invisibility spell up so they could go skinny-dipping!”

Glimmer wailed in agony. “Ahhhhh! I hate you! I never should have trauma-bonded with you!"

“Lookit you two! All...getting along and stuff” Adora sniffled a little bit. She sounded...really emotional. Bow was _so_ proud of her.

Catra knocked her head against Adora’s. “Pffff. We’ve been friends for, like, at least six months now, babe.”

“Yeah. But… it’s… good. Ok?” Adora sniffed her drink suspiciously. “What’s in this?”

An equine face poked itself between the topiaries next to their couch. “SHE’S DRUNK ON THE MAGIC OF THEATER!”

Adora screamed and flopped off the couch and onto the soft dirt. 

Huntara, passing by, took a cursory glance at the world’s greatest warrior, slumped on the dirt, red faced and grinning haphazardly. “And also moon juice.” 

“What’s moon juice?” 

Bow and Glimmer exchanged a glance. Glimmer sucked in air through her teeth. _Yeah, that just about sums that up_ , Bow thought, remembering the first time they’d ever had any—and Glimmer’s ensuing teleportation mishaps. She’d teleported them to Bright Moon’s tallest spire. Not into the spire. Onto the spire.

Catra was dangling what appeared to be a tail liberated from the costumes over Adora’s face for the other girl to swipe at (and miss), clearly enjoying the role reversal. Bow leaned over and checked Catra’s half-empty cup. Nope, just...milk? Milk. Maybe there was something to the magic of theater after all.

"You know what's weird?" Catra paused mid-tail-dangle.

"Hordak listening to Entrapta talk about set pieces?"

"Oh! Wrong Hordak doing An Emotion Gesture at everyone for a week after he learns it?"

"Dancing cats?"

"Cupcakes for breakfast."

"No! Well, ok, yes, well, not the cupcakes, but not what I was thinking. No, I'm … gonna miss this." Her face dropped. "I mean, it was like basic training levels of grueling and I don't think I've had a moment to myself since we started, but I'm really going to miss this tomorrow."

"You're not even going to be awake tomorrow."

"Yeah, ok, day after. "

"So does that mean...we're going to have to do another musical?"

Adora’s eyes widened. "No one tell Swift Wind!" She clambered up onto the arm of the couch to try and survey the party. "Where is Swift Wind? Did he hear???"

"Hear what?"

"Another, oop!" She tottered on her perch, " another musical!"

"Another musical! … that sounds great! You know, I JUST read this book on revolutions and convents and sewer systems!

A cheer was heard from the skies. Everyone looked up to see Madam Razz riding on the back of an absolutely _elated_ Swift Wind.

"ANOTHER MUSICAL!"

**Author's Note:**

> Sunquistadora: Gondolin was so much fun to nerd out about musical theatre with! <3 <3 <3


End file.
